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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787117">Promises Kept</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekitout/pseuds/Rose%20Golden'>Rose Golden (geekitout)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dunkirk (2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dunkirk Evacuation, Gibson's Real Name Is Philippe Hugo Guillet, Happy Ending, Post-Dunkirk Evacuation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Somebody give Tommy a hug</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 01:22:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,325</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekitout/pseuds/Rose%20Golden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy comes home and is tormented by a memory of being abandoned on a hospital ship and he struggles to adjust to a normal life.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Promises Kept</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy sat, unmoving and silent, at his parents’ kitchen table. Two weeks he’d been home but if you were to ask him where he was at any point during the day or night, he’d tell you he was still trapped on a beach in France.</p><p>His mother had burnt dinner the night before, smoking up the kitchen, and Tommy’s eyes watered as his nostrils filled up with the smell of burning oil on a sandy beach. His father had heavy hands and feet and he was prone to stomping around, slamming doors or slamming anything he had in his hands — habits he was having to unlearn quickly as his son jumped or ducked behind furniture every time he heard any loud noise. What his mother had found most disturbing though, was that Tommy barely spoke. He was practically mute. He wouldn’t speak unless spoken to and even then, his parents would receive one-word responses on a good day. Sometimes they could only manage to get a grunt or a nod out of him. Except, of course, at night; bedtime brought out the most horrific scenes for Tommy and he screamed all night for a ghost his parents did not know to not abandon him. He would never talk about it, no matter how hard his mother tried, and so she would just sit at his bedside and hold his hand and reassure him that she wasn’t going to abandon him. When he would open his eyes, he would never quite look at her during these fits, always through her, and she prayed every night that whoever he was pleading with was who he saw when he looked her direction. She hoped he was hearing their voice instead of hers as she promised to stay by his side. Most of all, she hoped she was bringing him any sort of comfort.</p><p>As Tommy was struggling to adjust back to a normal life, his parents were adjusting to his phantom reality. As he grew quieter, so too did they. As he grew more frantic in his sleep, their hearts broke along with his. They knew their son was never fully coming back to them and so they prayed he would meet them in the middle, somewhere between their home and his beach.</p><p>Tommy sat, unmoving and silent, at his parents’ kitchen table for three hours. His father was out and his mother avoided the kitchen to give her son space. Tommy’s neglectful ghost had poked through his nightmares and was taunting him this day and his parents could tell by his attitude that they weren’t going to be able to get him to help with chores — something they had hoped would ease him back into their world, though they never pushed or made aggressive requests — so they tiptoed around him and went about their lives.</p><p>“Tommy,” his ghost yelled out, “Tommy, you’ve been shot!”</p><p>“‘M fine,” his memory said faintly.</p><p>“You aren’t fine, you’re losing a lot of blood. I’ve got to get you on a hospital ship. Hey, you!” Another soldier paused and turned towards them. “Help me with him, will you? He’s injured. We need to get him to a ship.” And so, Tommy was lifted and the two men carrying him ran for minutes that passed like hours. Tommy was only vaguely aware of what was happening. Things were fading around him and he focused solely on Philippe to ground himself. He swayed as they ran and the motion made him feel nauseous, but somehow this feeling was a comfort to him. If he felt ill, he was still alive and he knew Philippe would stop at nothing to keep him that way. They had been inseparable for several days. It was an abnormally quick-developing friendship for Tommy, who had never been good at making friends, but the two had been isolated from their battalions and clung to each other until they found more of their men. The events were fuzzy for Tommy; he couldn’t remember arriving at Dunkirk beach and he didn’t remember getting shot somewhere along the way. He hadn’t felt it. He remembered feeling ill as Philippe and the unnamed soldier carried him, but there was a skip between them running along the beach and him waking up amidst the chaos of a hospital ship. A nurse was yelling angrily at Philippe to get off the vessel.</p><p>“Don’t leave me,” Tommy mumbled. “Philippe, please don’t leave me here to die alone.”</p><p>“You aren’t going to die, but they won’t let me stay with you. I’m sorry.” Philippe’s voice was strained, desperately trying to hide his emotions.</p><p>“Please...” Tommy pleaded, his voice growing louder in this brief moment of coherency.</p><p>“I can’t but listen,” Philippe said as he shoved something in Tommy’s hand, “I’ll find you, alright? When I get off this damn beach, I’ll find you. I promise.”</p><p>Tommy held his hand up and saw that it was his own pocket watch that Philippe had put in his hand. It had Tommy’s father’s name engraved on it, along with his family’s address. The watch was a gift his father had given him before he left for war, something Tommy’s grandfather had given his father. Tommy had asked Philippe to hold it as he was fumbling with something in his pockets, and then they came under fire. Philippe had held onto the watch for safekeeping during the days that followed, as they moved together towards the beach.</p><p>“Keep it,” Tommy mumbled, dropping the watch back in Philippe’s hand.</p><p>Before the other soldier could retort, the nurse had circled back again and started screaming for him to get off the ship. He had no time to argue. “Yeah, alright. Listen — I promise I’ll find you. I have to go now.” He held up the watch as if to reassure Tommy that he’d visit him when he got to England and squeezed Tommy’s hand one last time. Tommy continued to plead for him to stay, even as Philippe faded into the crowd of other passengers.</p><p>One week at home turned into two weeks, which turned into three agonizing weeks without a word. Philippe had not come home, Tommy knew deep down. He had not made it off the beach. This was the voice of the logical side of Tommy that came out on days he crossed the line from his phantom beach to his parent’s real home. The emotional side of him that was trapped somewhere between the beach and the hospital ship still pleaded for Philippe to stay.</p><p>—</p><p>The fourth week arrived and this day was a particularly beautiful summer day. Tommy felt more grounded in reality and his attitude showed it. He still did not talk much, but he smiled more and he offered without prompting to assist with chores. His father asked him to help in the back garden and so, there he spent his afternoon. His mother was sweeping the front porch when a young man approached her.</p><p>“Excuse me, ma’am. Does Thomas live here?” he asked.</p><p>She looked at him warily. A man in uniform asking for her son was not what any of them needed that day. He was broken enough. He would not go back. Surely, he would not go back. She was tempted to tell him no, no Thomas lived at this residence, but in her heart she knew she could not do that. Her son was a soldier and this was his duty. She should feel pride, not heartache.</p><p>“Yes,” she said quietly. “He must leave again?” She tried to will the shakiness out of her voice.</p><p>“No, ma’am. Well — that’s not why I’m here, anyway.” He pulled a pocket watch out of his pocket and held it up to her.</p><p>“Oh, thank God,” his mother whispered, putting one hand over her heart and another over her mouth, choking back a sob.</p><p>“I’m sorry that I’ve upset you. It’s just — I made a promise,” the man said, and Tommy’s mother knew instantly who he was.</p><p>She nodded. “You’re the one who got him home.” Tommy had never spoken about his nightmares or his memories but he had screamed enough of them to put pieces together. Someone had put her injured son on a hospital ship to come home. Someone had something that belonged to Tommy and Tommy told him to keep it. Someone had not stayed with him for his journey home; this had hurt him more than a bullet wound ever could.</p><p>“Yes,” Philippe replied.</p><p>“Right. Best if you stay in the hallway here, I think,” Tommy’s mother said as she led him inside the house. She did not ask for his name and she felt no need to do so.</p><p>She fetched her husband and son from the backyard, informing Tommy that he had a visitor. She held her breath as Tommy apprehensively approached the house.</p><p>“My God,” Tommy whispered when his eyes landed on Philippe. He ran to him and put his arms around him. “I thought you were dead.” He buried his face in Philippe’s shoulder.</p><p>“Never. I made a promise,” Philippe said with a hint of playfulness and then, more seriously, “I’m so sorry. I got off the beach not too long after you but they immediately shipped me off elsewhere. I got shot in the leg and that’s the only reason I’m able to be here now. Won’t be here long either, once they find out I’m mobile again.”</p><p>“You’re hurt?” Tommy asked, pulling back but still embracing him.</p><p>“Don’t fret. I’m fine. Tommy, really — I’m fine,” Philippe reassured him when he saw the concern on the other man’s face. He patted him on the back and glanced beyond Tommy at his parents. His father looked confused and his mother looked to be on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” Philippe said, pulling away fully from Tommy, “I don’t think I properly introduced myself.”</p><p>And so, he stayed for dinner. There was an instantaneous, dramatic shift in Tommy’s personality. He talked freely and more like himself. He even laughed.</p><p>As Philippe was getting ready to leave, Tommy’s father asked if he lived nearby. “No,” Philippe responded. “No, I’m afraid I’ve nowhere to go right now except the shelter down the road.”</p><p>“What? Absolutely not,” Tommy’s father said. “I won’t have it. Those shelter beds are nothing more than cots and I imagine you’re sick of those by now. What you need is a real bed. We have a room here that no one is using. Take it, stay as long as you need.”</p><p>Philippe opened his mouth to protest but Tommy and his mother shook their heads. This was one battle he would not win. Instead, he smiled, nodded politely,<br/>
and thanked his host for the generous offer.</p><p>Tommy’s mother hoped that tonight would be easier, that her son would sleep peacefully and not be haunted. But despite the arrival of his friend, Tommy’s dreams were still riddled with ghosts and at a quarter past midnight, the house filled again with his cries as he pleaded with the memory of Philippe to not abandon him. His mother peeked out of her bedroom and watched as Philippe, startled awake by the screams, ran to Tommy’s room. She tiptoed to his door and watched to see if she would need to intervene. This could go two ways, she thought; one: Philippe’s presence was exactly what Tommy needed and he would be calmed, or two: his presence would confuse and agitate Tommy and this would make his outbursts worse. She watched with bated breath as Philippe cradled her son and gently spoke reassuring words.</p><p>“Tommy, wake up,” Philippe said, gently shaking his friend. Tommy startled in the midst of his tantrum and Philippe shushed him. “Look, I’m here. See? I didn’t abandon you. I didn’t abandon you.”</p><p>He repeated the phrase until Tommy squeezed his hand and said back to him, “You didn’t abandon me?”</p><p>“No, I did not. Look. Who am I? Right here, holding you — who am I?”</p><p>“Philippe.”</p><p>“Yes, and where are we right now?”</p><p>“The-the hospital ship. We’re on the hospital ship,” Tommy replied. His voice still sounded panicked.</p><p>Philippe shook his head. “Look again.”</p><p>Tommy slowly lifted his head and looked around. His mother, from a distance, and Philippe watched as his face changed from panic to confusion. He shook his head and started to say he didn’t know where he was.</p><p>“What do you see?” Philippe asked calmly. Tommy’s mother stepped out of sight in the hallway as her son focused more and looked around his room.</p><p>“I see...I see a lamp. And a chest of drawers and a mirror.” He still sounded confused.</p><p>“Yes. Does it look familiar?”</p><p>“My bedroom?” Tommy asked after a long pause. “We’re in my bedroom?” Philippe nodded. Tommy sighed and his heart rate and breathing began to slow as he put his head back on his pillow.</p><p>“Alright now?” Philippe asked.</p><p>“Yes. Philippe?” Tommy waited for a reply and got a small “hm?” in response. “Stay with me.”</p><p>Philippe, unaware of Tommy’s mother just outside the door, briefly wondered what his parents would think if they saw their son in bed with another man and then realized he was too exhausted to care for the time being. That was a problem to be addressed when it became a problem. “Okay,” he said quietly. They drifted off to sleep, wrapped around each other.</p><p>Although it would have felt odd to her had she not witnessed what she had, Tommy’s mother felt relieved by the sight of her son being comforted this night. There was a long, painful road ahead for Tommy, she knew, but her intuition told her that this was the beginning of his healing process. Philippe had made sure Tommy’s body had made it home that day on the beach, and he had brought home his soul today. A gift neither of his parents could have given him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>;-; I haven’t written in so long, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t get this one out of my head.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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